The Last Revelation Of Gla'aki by Ramsey Campbell Page A
Authors: Ramsey Campbell
Tags: Fiction
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tight, and no marks were visible on the metal door. It didn't matter that the safe had space for just one more carton; he was determined to be back at the archive tomorrow with the entire set of books. He removed the four volumes from their cartons and lined them up on the dressing-table, where they seemed to bring too much darkness into the room—because the mirror doubled them, of course. Presumably this was what people called daydreaming, and he ought to be examining the books, but not until he'd made a call.
By the time Sandra answered he'd begun to wonder if she had switched her mobile off. "Are you only just starting out?" she said.
"Hasn't Nathan kept you informed? I hear you've been discussing me."
"It was library business, Leonard. You surely don't object to that"
"Not in the slightest. Keep him posted by all means. He already knows I won't be back today, though."
"You mean you told him but not me."
"I'm telling you now, Sandra." Fairman wasn't going to be made to feel unreasonable. "And he might have passed the information on to you," he said.
No doubt her pause was a form of rebuke. "So what's keeping you where you are?"
"What else except the books?" He'd turned towards the window, but seemed to feel their massed blackness behind him, making him impatient to read. "I still have to lay my hands on some of them," he said. "I will tomorrow."
"I don't understand. How many are you leaving until then?"
"About half. Well, just more than half." With mounting irritation Fairman said "I told you they're being held by a number of people. The one I have to see next isn't available today."
"I'm not grasping this at all. Why can't you deal with the others while you're waiting?"
"Because apparently it isn't done like that. Don't bother asking me why." This left him feeling so inadequate that he blurted "If you talk to Nathan you might like to know he's suggesting I'll have to take my time here as leave."
"But you haven't any left this year, Leonard. Our holiday is all you have."
"You don't need to tell me that." In a bid to make up for his abruptness Fairman said "You might try to use your wiles to change his mind."
"I really don't believe we have that kind of relationship."
"Then maybe you should work on having one for both our sakes." When she gave him another silence to construe Fairman said "I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I'm done here."
"Meanwhile you'll be enjoying the sort of holiday you wish you'd had, will you?"
"No," Fairman said, not seeing why he should feel accused. "I'll be doing my job."
He gazed through the window as he ended the call. Several old folk had their backs against the graffiti in the shelter on the promenade, hiding the unreadable clumps of letters. Dozens of people were sitting or lying on the beach, and there were even swimmers in the sea despite the greyish haze that enclosed it. The haze made the more distant ones hard to distinguish, but the most unstable of the shapes among the waves had to be jellyfish. In any case he ought to be attending to the books.
It made sense to start with the first volume, but he found himself lingering over the colophon. He wasn't far from imagining that the inhumanly distorted hand could conjure up some idea in his mind, and perhaps this had been the book designer's aim, since the volume was On Conjuration. "The tongues of men reduce the world to words..." Was that supposed to mean that gestures achieved something else? In that case, what was the point of this book entirely composed of words? Surely he oughtn't to expect it to make too much sense. Ah, here was some kind of enlightenment further down the page. "Let no man utter the secret words who has not first prepared his mind and spirit in the occult ways, for otherwise the words shall batten on him and shape him to their liking..."
"No chance of that," Fairman said and was glad that Sandra couldn't hear him talking to himself. He stared at his reflection as though holding it responsible,
By the time Sandra answered he'd begun to wonder if she had switched her mobile off. "Are you only just starting out?" she said.
"Hasn't Nathan kept you informed? I hear you've been discussing me."
"It was library business, Leonard. You surely don't object to that"
"Not in the slightest. Keep him posted by all means. He already knows I won't be back today, though."
"You mean you told him but not me."
"I'm telling you now, Sandra." Fairman wasn't going to be made to feel unreasonable. "And he might have passed the information on to you," he said.
No doubt her pause was a form of rebuke. "So what's keeping you where you are?"
"What else except the books?" He'd turned towards the window, but seemed to feel their massed blackness behind him, making him impatient to read. "I still have to lay my hands on some of them," he said. "I will tomorrow."
"I don't understand. How many are you leaving until then?"
"About half. Well, just more than half." With mounting irritation Fairman said "I told you they're being held by a number of people. The one I have to see next isn't available today."
"I'm not grasping this at all. Why can't you deal with the others while you're waiting?"
"Because apparently it isn't done like that. Don't bother asking me why." This left him feeling so inadequate that he blurted "If you talk to Nathan you might like to know he's suggesting I'll have to take my time here as leave."
"But you haven't any left this year, Leonard. Our holiday is all you have."
"You don't need to tell me that." In a bid to make up for his abruptness Fairman said "You might try to use your wiles to change his mind."
"I really don't believe we have that kind of relationship."
"Then maybe you should work on having one for both our sakes." When she gave him another silence to construe Fairman said "I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I'm done here."
"Meanwhile you'll be enjoying the sort of holiday you wish you'd had, will you?"
"No," Fairman said, not seeing why he should feel accused. "I'll be doing my job."
He gazed through the window as he ended the call. Several old folk had their backs against the graffiti in the shelter on the promenade, hiding the unreadable clumps of letters. Dozens of people were sitting or lying on the beach, and there were even swimmers in the sea despite the greyish haze that enclosed it. The haze made the more distant ones hard to distinguish, but the most unstable of the shapes among the waves had to be jellyfish. In any case he ought to be attending to the books.
It made sense to start with the first volume, but he found himself lingering over the colophon. He wasn't far from imagining that the inhumanly distorted hand could conjure up some idea in his mind, and perhaps this had been the book designer's aim, since the volume was On Conjuration. "The tongues of men reduce the world to words..." Was that supposed to mean that gestures achieved something else? In that case, what was the point of this book entirely composed of words? Surely he oughtn't to expect it to make too much sense. Ah, here was some kind of enlightenment further down the page. "Let no man utter the secret words who has not first prepared his mind and spirit in the occult ways, for otherwise the words shall batten on him and shape him to their liking..."
"No chance of that," Fairman said and was glad that Sandra couldn't hear him talking to himself. He stared at his reflection as though holding it responsible,
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